


Kindle The Lights

by Zombubble



Series: Yamim Tovim [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Channukah, Chanukah, Hannukah, Hanukkah, Hot Springs, Jewish Character, Jewish Holidays, Jewish Victor Nikiforov, Jewish Viktor Nikiforov, Jewish Yuri Plisetsky, M/M, Traditions, and he's not about to let yakov keep him from doing what he wants, and his fiance's arms, because why not, candle lighting, chanukkah, chicken katsudon, donuts are a thing, hanukah, how many different spellings are there holy shit, it's an onsen in japan, lets be real, makes its appearance, sufganiyot, viktor breaks his diet, viktor found heaven thanks, viktor has his own ways of celebrating, yutopia katsuki
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-14 21:58:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13016982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zombubble/pseuds/Zombubble
Summary: The first Chanukkah with Yuuri was supposed to be relaxed, filled with the warmth and light and smells Chanukkah brings with it. They were supposed to cuddle on the couch with Makka, maybe take a walk. Unfortunately, the first Chanukkah with Yuuri comes the same year it happens to coincide with Russian and Japanese Nationals (and Viktor's birthday, to boot). Thousands of miles away from both his fiance and his dog, Viktor is tired, grumpy, and just wants to go home.But...maybe it won't be as bad as it seems.Set in-universe post-GPF/post-series.





	1. Sufganiyot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chanukkah is not off to the best start, but that's not necessarily indicative of how the rest will go.
> 
> Or so Viktor hopes.

Viktor has long imagined how the first Chanukkah would go with Yuuri in the apartment in St. Petersburg. They’d fall asleep on the first night with his menorah standing proudly in the window, two candles burning gently in the dark. He’d grab donuts the next morning, make the good coffee he only pulls out on special occasions, and wake his fiancé with a kiss and a smile. Yuuri would shuffle out to the kitchen, grumbling, as he is wont to do, and Viktor would crack a few jokes and Yuuri's mouth would twitch up at the corners like it does when he’s too sleepy to properly grin. After that it would have been a nice, languid day, and they’d finish curled up on the couch together with Makkachin after lighting the second night’s candles. He hadn’t planned for the rest of the holiday, but there was going to be plenty of cute moments, good food, and nights spent watching the candles burn in the window.

Sitting next to Yakov in the taxi to the competition venue in Chelyabinsk with a mostly-empty cup of hotel coffee and the tail end of a croissant in his hands was not part of his plan, nor was the absence of Yuuri at his side. Because of course.

He had to fall in love with someone from the one country that holds its national competitions at the same. Exact. Time. As Russia. Every. Year. And of course, their first Chanukkah together had to be eclipsed not only by his birthday, but by the most ill-timed figure skating events in the history of figure skating events. Viktor’s in Chelyabinsk. Makkachin is in St. Petersburg with Viktor’s elderly neighbor, probably suffering through stale dog biscuits. Yuuri's in Osaka with Minako standing in as his coach. None of them are in the same time zone, much less the same location.

Some Chanukkah this is. The taxi idles while Yakov runs into a shop for decent coffee. Viktor’s picking at a bit of dirt under his nails when the door opens and a brown paper bag is tossed unceremoniously on his lap. He looks at Yakov, confused, as the taxi starts moving again. Yakov merely grunts.

Opening the bag, the back of his throat gets a little thick when he sees two of his favorite stuffed donuts sitting at the bottom. This is a clear violation of his strictly regimented diet (Yu-Topia’s katsudon were bliss for the months he lived there, but Yakov insists on him getting back into fighting form while he trains in Russia), and he looks at his coach with wide eyes.

“Eat, Vitya.” is all Yakov says in response.

For all Yakov’s yearly yelling about fried food and its detrimental effects on athleticism, he seems to realize the importance of Viktor’s traditional Daily Chanukkah Donut. It’s not anything really huge, but it’s what Viktor grew up with, what he still does every year, and something Yakov’s apparently stopped fighting him about. He eats, gratefully accepting the second cup of coffee Yakov holds out.

They’re almost to the venue when Yakov gives Viktor a stern glare. “Yura does not need to know about this.”

Yura doesn’t _need_ to know, sure, but eating donuts on Chanukkah is _tradition_ and Viktor only wants to encourage the next generation of Jewish athletes. He slips the second donut in his pocket while Yakov gets out of the car.

 

 

He has his opportunity in the locker room. Yura finishes lacing his skates just before Viktor corners him against the wall. He pulls the bag out of his pocket. “Yura.”

“What do you want, old man?” He flips his hair and glares at Viktor.

Viktor plasters his face with the most cheerfully disarming smile he can muster as he holds out the bag. “It’s for you! Happy Chanukkah!”

Yura slowly reaches out, taking the bag before looking inside. He looks back up. “A donut? You trying to get me killed or something?”

“What Yakov doesn’t know won’t upset him. It’s important to celebrate!” Maybe he sounds a bit too cheerful, but it’s either that or being grumpy and he has no doubt which will go over better. Yura eats while Viktor changes into his practice clothes. When he looks back over, Yura’s lips twitch up in a grateful smile before he takes on his trademark scowl.

His phone chimes, a “Happy Birthday/Happy Chanukkah” text from Yuuri lights up the screen, accompanied by a selfie of him and Minako, both smiling and waving in front of the television.

“We’re watching!! Davai!!” shows up on the screen, before another bubble appears showing Yuuri's still typing.

“I love you!!” is the next message, and Viktor smiles.

Maybe this Chanukkah won’t be as bad as he’d thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys!! Thanks so much for reading!
> 
> This is the first of three or four chapters, hopefully. 
> 
> Happy Chanukkah!


	2. Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor's back in Japan and ready to get this party started.
> 
> After a nap.

Viktor staggers out to the curb at Fukuoka International Airport, scanning his eyes along the line of cars waiting for passengers. Makkachin, exhausted from the flight over, promptly lays down at his feet once he stops moving. A red pickup pulls up in front of him then, window sliding down to reveal Yuuri smiling from the passenger seat. He hops out to help Viktor load his luggage in the back, giving Makka a scratch behind the ears.

Makkachin satisfied, Yuuri turns to Viktor, beaming. His fingers are gentle on Viktor’s cheek when he rocks forward on his toes, lips gently making contact with Viktor’s. “Happy birthday,” he says softly. Viktor smiles, resting his forehead against Yuuri's.

“Congratulations on your gold,” Viktor replies. Yuuri blushes, but doesn’t do anything to downplay his achievement. His eyes shift back to the car before he sighs against him.

“How was your flight?”

“Could have been better.” Viktor buries his nose in Yuuri's hair. Mari makes an impatient noise behind them. He tightens his arms when Yuuri shifts towards the car, holding him against his chest. Yuuri struggles for a second, laughing, before he kisses Viktor’s chin.

“Do you want the front seat? I can sit with Makka.”

“I want to sit with Makka,” Viktor practically whines. It’s unfair for Makkachin to get to sit next to Yuuri when he couldn’t. Unfair for Yuuri to get to sit with Makkachin, too. Ideally, the back seat would be large enough for all three of them.

“There’s no leg room in the back.”

Yuuri makes an unfortunately good point. Viktor glances between his dog and the mere inches of leg space in the back seat. The front has more room, though not by much, and it’d be nice to have the space after his flight. But Makkachin. He weighs his options.

“Viktor it’s already an hour drive back to Hasetsu. The sooner you make your choice, the sooner you can soak in the onsen.”

How Viktor forgot about the hot springs, he’ll never know. He looks rapidly between the front and back seats, indecisive, before Mari rolls her eyes and leans over.

“Viktor, sit in the front and move the seat all the way back. Yuuri, sit behind me, I’m short enough. Makka can ride behind Viktor and you idiots can hold hands or whatever it is you want to do.”

A magnificent plan.

 

 

The drive back is uneventful, as far as Viktor knows. They were barely pulling out of the airport when he fell asleep halfway through his story about smuggling donuts to Yura. Yakov may have been angry when he found out, but Viktor just reminded him that a refusal to keep to the laws set by authority was truly in the _spirit_ of the holiday, and was he really going to deny Yura his cultural heritage? Could Yakov  _truly_ blame Viktor?

He’d gotten an impressive eyeroll in response, but no further issues. It was worth it.

Yuuri wakes him up with a gentle hand on his shoulder and a peck on the cheek as they pull into the back of the onsen. The smell of hot oil hits him when the door opens, he and Makka instantly salivating. Hiroko greets him with a hug, ushering him and Makkachin inside while Yuuri and Mari pull his suitcases.

He’s barely sat down at the kotatsu in the family room when he Toshiya walks in with a tray, two large steaming bowls of katsudon in the center. “There’s no pork!” he says, when Viktor’s eyes widen. “Yuuri reminded us. No pork on holidays.” He smiles as he sets the bowls down. “It’s chicken katsudon.” Miso soup and radishes are set down, and then chopsticks. Toshiya smiles as he heads back into the kitchen as Hiroko brings out a pot of green tea and two small cups. She gets it situated before giving each of them a quick embrace, kissing them both on the top of their heads. “Enjoy!” she says buoyantly as she leaves the room.

Viktor smiles warmly at his fiancé. Yuuri flushes. Makkachin vanishes when he hears his bowl being filled in the next room. After a hushed _“Itadakimasu!”_ from both, they eat in silence, the residual exhaustion from competition weighing heavily in the room. Dinner is quiet, the clack of chopsticks against ceramic filling the space as they eat.

“It’s celebratory, you know.” Yuuri says quietly as he takes a bite of chicken. “I didn’t have katsudon when I got back after Nationals.”

“Why not?” Viktor looks at him.

“I wanted to eat it with you.” There’s such loving sincerity in his voice it knocks Viktor’s breath away. He hugs Yuuri tightly. He could marry this man. He’s _going to_ marry this man, he remembers with a start. Everything is warm and bubbly all of a sudden and he touches his lips to Yuuri's jawbone repeatedly, smiling when Yuuri turns to kiss his nose. They sit for a while, breathing in each other’s presence. It’d been over a week since Yuuri left St. Petersburg, Viktor heading to Chelyabinsk shortly thereafter. Yuuri’d come straight to Hasetsu, while Viktor had flown out to St. Petersburg to pick up Makkachin before immediately heading to Japan for New Year’s. All in all, it had been a long, lonely week and there is nowhere Viktor would rather be in this moment than Yuuri's arms.

 

 

Soaking in the onsen reminds Viktor that, truly, heaven could be a place on earth. Specifically, a pool of water in the back of a traditional building in Hasetsu. Yuuri chats with him while they sit, telling him about Japanese nationals. Minami-kun was apparently getting more consistent, landing all of his triples and his quad toe more often than not. He’d taken second, barely squeaking ahead of one of the competitors from Sapporo.

Yuuri's shoulder is warm against Viktor’s cheek. Solid. Comfortable. Viktor could die happy. He runs his thumb along the space his ring would be on his right hand, if it wouldn’t be damaged by the minerals in the water. For now, it was safe in the pocket of his tracksuit in their locker. Yuuri presses his lips to Viktor’s forehead, Viktor returns the kiss on Yuuri's shoulder.

“Okaeri, Viktor.”

“Tadaima.” _I’m home._ And he is, though he hadn’t fully realized until now.

They lean against each other, languid sleepiness fighting for dominance as they try not to pass out in the heat. They last ten minutes before Yuuri calls it quits.

“But it’s so nice, Yuuri!” Viktor protests. The warmth is doing almost sinful things to his muscles, tension melting out of his shoulders like butter.

“We’re falling asleep, Viktor, it’ll still be here tomorrow.” Yuuri looks reluctant, too, but he insists.

“But it’s so warm!”

“Our bed will be too, if we ever get in it. I cleared off a space on the desk for your menorah.”

That’s right. It’s Chanukkah and he finally gets to celebrate with Yuuri. It’s motivator enough for him to haul himself regretfully out of the bath. They dry off, dressing in thick jinbei before making their way to Yuuri's room. Makkachin perks up as they pass through the dining area, getting slowly to his feet before trotting after them. Out of habit, Viktor turns to go into the banquet room before Yuuri catches him.

“We’re using that for storage again, I figured we’d share my room.”

Yuuri's bed is small. Fitting two grown men and a dog in a twin-size bed is going to be a very tight fit, but it’s a sacrifice Viktor is more than willing to make. What he sees when Yuuri opens the door, however, is not the twin bed he’s come to expect. Standing proudly below the window is a larger bed, a double, leaving a few feet between it and the desk. Fresh stickers are on the sides, the mascots for Ice Castle Hasetsu shining against the dark wood. When he points them out, Yuuri laughs.

“The girls decided my bed was incomplete without them,” he says smiling fondly, running his hand along the sheets. “So they took the liberty of redecorating. Mari got your bags, by the way.” He gestures towards the corner, where Viktor’s suitcases had been carefully placed while they ate.

Viktor rummages through his luggage, pulling out the sleek menorah he bought for travel, a silver bar with eight holes and a raised Star of David with a hole for a ninth candle. Next to it, he sets the traditional silver one his mothers had given him, four branches on either side of the taller center. Two boxes of candles are set in front of them, blue and pink matching their exhibition costumes. Yuuri glances at him.

“Two sets?”

“I thought you might like to light some.” Viktor watches Yuuri's face turn a gentle pink as he wiggles his shoulders happily. Viktor would die for those rare shoulder wiggles. Yuuri smiles before nodding determinedly.

Viktor pulls five candles out of each box, setting the blue next to the traditional menorah, and the pink next to his own modern one. He shows Yuuri how to put the candles in, moving from right to left like he was taught by his moms. Makkachin curls up on the new bed, taking up the entire middle while Yuuri runs off in search of matches. Smiling, Viktor runs his hands along the duvet, material soft and silky to his touch. Yuuri'd probably bought the sheets with him in mind, since his tastes tended to lean towards utilitarian. The walls are peppered with slightly lighter patches, evidence of the sheer number of posters that once adorned them. It’s strangely endearing, if Viktor’s being honest. He’d have liked to see the room as it was when Yuuri was younger. Heavily-laid hints by Mari and Yuuko of photographic evidence give him the feeling he still might, if not in-person.

Yuuri returns shortly, lighter in hand, and smiles at him. “I hope this is ok, I couldn’t find matches so I borrowed Mari’s lighter. Remind me to give it back when we’re done.”

“Does she _know_ you borrowed it?”

“She won’t if you hurry up.” He waves the orange lighter at Viktor, smiling.

He takes it. “Do you want to light with me, or do you want to watch me first?”

Yuuri stands back, gesturing for Viktor to demonstrate. Viktor lights the candle in his hand, closing his eyes before whispering the familiar Hebrew rapidly under his breath. He pauses after each blessing, smiling when he glances over at Yuuri. His fiancé has nothing but love written across his face and Viktor almost swoons. He lights the four pink candles in the menorah, placing the one in his hand in the highest holder when he’s done. They burn brightly, reflecting off the menorahs and the foil below them.

Yuuri moves slowly in front of the other menorah. He lights the candle in his hand uncertainly, but keeps himself from jumping when Viktor wraps his arms around him.

“You don’t need the blessings,” he says softly into Yuuri's ear, “since I’ve already said them and you’re not Jewish. Just hold the shamash firmly, and use it to light the candles.” He slides his hand down Yuuri's arm, grasping his palm gently. They move in tandem, smiling against each other as each flame catches. Yuuri fumbles slightly as he tries to put the lit candle in its place, nearly dropping it before gripping it awkwardly, but Viktor’s hand is there quickly, steadying him. The candle eventually stands tall next to the others, filling the darkened room with a warm glow. Black hair brushes Viktor’s cheek as he rests his head on Yuuri's. They stand there for a second, Yuuri wrapped in Viktor’s arms, before Yuuri turns around. He kisses Viktor’s chin with a smile before disappearing with the lighter.

When he comes back, he wordlessly pulls Viktor towards the bed. He climbs in first, holding the blankets up while Viktor gets situated facing the desk. Yuuri moves behind him, laying a kiss on his shoulder blade before adjusting the pillows for both of them. Makkachin paws determinedly at the tatami in the corner. They lay together, breathing slow and steady, while the wind whistles outside the window.

“What do you think?” Yuuri's voice is soft, his arm draped across Viktor’s stomach, rubbing slow circles over the jinbei.

“It’s lit,” Viktor says absently. He yawns.

Yuuri chuckles before pulling him against his chest.

“I love you so much,” he says, as he tugs the blankets up. Viktor snuggles even closer, resting his head on Yuuri's arm.

“I love you too,” Viktor murmurs. He sighs happily before yawning deeply. “You’re going to end up sore if you sleep like this, you know. Your shoulder.” When they’d first started sharing a bed, it had taken some trial and error to find sleeping positions that didn’t result in one or both of them having unpleasant amounts of pain the entire next day.

“Mmmmm worth it.” Yuuri buries his face in the nape of Viktor’s neck. The bed shifts as Makkachin jumps on the bed to curl up behind Yuuri's knees, snuggling into the extra blanket there. Viktor can’t tell who falls asleep first, but when he wakes briefly in the middle of the night, they’re facing each other. He shifts further into Yuuri's arms before sleep overtakes him again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This practically wrote itself in an exhaustion-induced haze yesterday, but it came out well, I think!!
> 
> Happy Chanukkah/Hanukkah/Channukah/however you spell it.
> 
> Chag Sameach!!

**Author's Note:**

> Chanukkah fic!! Chanukkah 2016 happened to end up starting at the same time as Russian and Japanese Nationals, which we all know coincide with Viktor's birthday, so it's this huge juxtaposition where everything happens at once, lol.
> 
> This'll probably end up about three or four short chapters?
> 
> Regardless, thanks for reading!!!
> 
> I can be found on Tumblr at [@we-call-everything-katsudon](https://we-call-everything-katsudon.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Rebloggable post can be found [ here.](https://we-call-everything-katsudon.tumblr.com/post/168551573972/kindle-the-lights-pt-1)


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